


Rain

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 10:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: While one relationship finally fails, another gets stronger.





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

EPISODE 8.15 - Written by Jen

RAIN

TEASER

INT. WHITE HOUSE CORRIDOR 

6:30PM FRIDAY NIGHT

“I have a feeling we’ve got an agreement, Josh,” the president said as he and Josh walked out of the Oval Office and down the hallway.

“In three days, after a year of arguing,” Josh said sarcastically. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.” 

The president raised an eyebrow and looked over at him. “Pessimistic today, aren’t we?”

“Realistic.”

They walked down the stairs and towards the Sit Room. “Lighten up Josh,” the president said jovially. “It’s Friday.” 

“Yes it is. Of course, I’ll be here Saturday and Sunday, so...” 

The president laughed. “Have you ever had a job where you didn’t work most weekends?”

Josh looked up and seemed to ponder that. “No.”

The president chuckled again and walked into the Sit Room. All activity and conversation stopped immediately and he nodded to his secretary of defense and national security advisor before sitting down at the head of the long table. Josh walked in behind him and sat at his usual spot to the left. The others waited until they were seated, and then everyone except Secretary Brenton sat down in seats around the table.

“What do you have for me, Mr. Secretary?” the president started.

“China, Russia, and Kazakhstan reached a tentative agreement today, Mr. President.”

The president shot Josh an all-knowing smirk and then focused again on the secretary of defense. 

“We heard from General McClain about a half an hour ago. China has agreed to a higher price for the oil pipeline they were originally promised and Kazakhstan has agreed to redo last year’s election this coming January.”

“What’s Russia getting out of it?” Josh asked.

“Both presidential candidates are in Russia’s pocket now,” NSA Director Glen Moorehead answered. “They can’t lose.”

“Of course,” Josh mumbled.

“Is this agreement going to stick, gentlemen?” President Santos asked.

“General McClain has been in Astana at these meetings for the last three days, sir,” replied Secretary Brenton. “He’s confident that all three countries are serious and committed to the agreement.”

The president looked at Josh. “Josh?”

“Something should be put into place to assure the fairness of the election this time. Otherwise this could start all over in January,” Josh said while jotting down something on the legal pad he’d brought in.

Santos nodded and looked back at the secretary of defense. “Josh is pessimistic today, but he has a valid point.”

Secretary Brenton nodded. “They’re addressing specifics in their morning meeting before signing. I’ll speak with General McClain about election monitoring.”

“Thank you. Anything else?”

“Yes, sir. We’re ready to recommend the withdrawal of thirty thousand troops.”

The president’s eyes widened. “You don’t think it’s too soon for that?”

“We need to show that we support their efforts while still keeping a strong presence there in case either side reneges. Thirty thousand is only twenty percent; both the Russians and Chinese have agreed to withdraw fifty percent.” 

A new base in Amiir and the withdrawal of troops from Kazakhstan; people were actually going to think they knew what they were doing.

“Do you have a timeline in place?” Josh asked.

“We’re still putting options together,” Secretary Brenton replied, “But we expect to have troops home in the next six weeks.”

The president beamed. Their best case scenario for withdrawing troops was eighteen months and it had only been thirteen. “30,000 troops home by Christmas? You’re about five months early, gentlemen. Congratulations.” 

Secretary Brenton nodded slightly at the compliment. “It’s only twenty percent sir, but we’re hoping to have another thirty home by spring.”

The president stood, followed by the others in the room. “Give me a little good Gaza news and you’ll make my week.”

“I wish I could, sir,” Secretary Brenton answered with a forced chuckle. “But I don’t know that things will ever be stable when it comes to Gaza.”

“That’s an understatement,” Josh mumbled while gathering his notebook and cell phone off the table. 

Josh followed the president out of the Sit Room and upstairs. “Did you hear that, Josh? Troops home for Christmas; Lou’s going to kiss me.”

“She’s not really allowed to do that,” Josh replied distractedly while checking his phone for messages.

The president chuckled and turned to his chief of staff. “Troops home, Josh. That means money for other things! Show a little excitement!”

Josh flipped his phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. “It’s thirty thousand out of a hundred and fifty and that money’s going directly into building the base in Amiir.”

They walked into Ronna’s office and headed towards the Oval. “You’re grumpy.” The president stopped outside the door to his office and looked at Ronna. “Ronna, Josh is in a bad mood.”

“I noticed,” she replied without looking up. “I’ve been having flashbacks to the campaign all week.”

The president laughed out loud as Josh shot her a look. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad yet,” the president said to her while ignoring Josh’s claim to be fine. “But watch him.”

“I’m right here,” Josh screeched.

The president looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’ll give you a dollar to smile.”

“You haven’t had cash in your pocket in almost a year.”

“You’re no fun.” He walked inside his office. “Go home; it’s Friday.”

“I have a few things…”

“Go home. You too Ronna. And no one here before ten in the morning.”

Josh gave Ronna an evil eye and turned, walking out of her office and down the hallway towards his. The president called him grumpy. Nice. 

“Hey,” Sam said, passing him in the hallway and then turning around and walking with him. “I was just looking for you.”

“Yeah? How was the meeting with the DCCC?” Josh asked as they continued towards his office.

“Shouldn’t it be too early to be discussing midterms?” 

They walked into Josh’s office and Josh walked around and plopped into his chair. “They’re only a year away. Did you discuss the Tennessee 7th?”

“As well as five other house seats they predict will be up for grabs,” Sam said, sitting across from him.

“Six?” Josh asked with a raised eyebrow. “We could win back the house with that.”

Sam nodded. “Pennsylvania 16th, Indiana 2nd, Oregon 4th, Texas 20th, and Michigan 11th.”

“Will Bailey’s running in the Oregon 4th?”

“Yes,” Sam said, holding out a few sheets of paper. “They gave me this list of possibilities for the other races. We need to have a short list next week.”

Josh groaned and took the papers. “I’ll look at this tomorrow; the president kicked me out for the night.”

“Already? You and Donna going to do something?”

“I guess,” Josh said unconvincingly. Doing something with Donna would probably mean arguing with Donna. “You want to go grab a beer?” he asked Sam instead.

“Can’t,” Sam said standing. “I’m meeting Lauren for dinner.”

“Right,” Josh said with an exaggerated nod. “Everything… ok there?”

Sam looked at Josh defeated. “Same as it was last night at the Halloween party.” 

“She didn’t seem to be enjoying herself last night.”

“I know,” Sam said with a sigh. “We’ve just got some things to work out. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Josh studied him for a moment, but the last thing he had the energy to do was work on someone else’s relationship. “Ok. If you need to talk…”

“I know,” Sam said nodding. “What about Donna? Has she made a decision about tomorrow night?”

Josh stared at Sam for a second before looking at something on his desk. “Not yet.”

Sam paused. “You know, she…”

“Have a nice dinner,” Josh said, halting the conversation.

Sam looked at him for a second before standing. They were quite the pair this week. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Josh said without looking up. He waited until he was alone in his office, and then stared at the phone on his desk. He’d been avoiding her for most of the day, or maybe they’d been avoiding each other. He wasn’t sure anymore. He just knew that he wanted to talk about it; convince her not to go, and that every time he brought it up she wanted to ‘talk about it later.’ He sighed heavily and picked up the phone. 

“Donna Moss’ office.”

“Is she busy?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Lyman; she’s gone for the night.”

Josh looked at his watch; it wasn’t quite seven. “Did she have a meeting?”

“I didn’t set anything up for her, but she left a half an hour ago and said she’d see me on Monday. Would you like me to try her cell?”

He sighed. “No, I’ll…” She probably went home; things had been stressed lately and he figured she wanted a little down time before he got home to go another round on why she should or shouldn’t attend the Colin Ayres exhibit the next night. “I’ll call her. Thanks.”

“Goodnight Mr. Lyman.”

 

He hung up and dialed her cell.

CUT TO EXT. WASHINGTON DC – CONTINUOUS

Donna’s cell phone started ringing just as she opened her umbrella and stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. She reached inside and paid the driver, then pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the caller id. She stared at Josh’s name as it rang a third, fourth, and fifth time. She always answered when he called. Always. But she closed her eyes and waited as it rang a sixth time before switching over to voicemail, then she powered down her cell and walked up the block.

Bosco’s was out of the way, small, and one of the few places she knew in Chevy Chase. Even the sign was unlit and unobtrusive; it was a place you had to look for but had a lack of ambiance so few would. Coupled with the heavy rain they’d been bombarded with the last three days, she was fairly confident the place wouldn’t be busy. When she walked inside, she lightly shook out her umbrella and looked at the worn wooden floor and the picnic style tables. She took off her wet trench coat and hung it up in the unattended coat room as a woman in an apron passed her and asked if she needed a table. She smiled uneasily and gave the woman her name, then was shown to a table near the kitchen. 

She took a deep breath as she approached the table, still not sure what she was doing there. It wasn’t too late to turn around, she told herself, and she actually almost did, even if it was just to get a grip. But there wasn’t time, because he stood up and saw her.

“Donna,” he said with a cocky grin. 

She smiled slightly. “Colin.”

 

SMASH CUT TO MAIN TITLES

ACT 1

BOSCO’S BAR AND GRILL – CHEVY CHASE – 7:00PM 

Colin leaned over and kissed her cheek, then pulled back. “You’re more stunning than I remember,” he said with a grin.

“You do tend to notice that type of thing,” she deadpanned.

His smile widened. “It’s hard to miss with you.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Charm’s still working for you?”

“That and the accent,” he said, sliding into the booth. Donna slid in across from him as their waitress walked up to the table. 

Colin motioned to Donna and she looked uneasily to the waitress. “Diet Coke.”

“Gin and tonic,” Colin said, and then waited for the waitress to leave before looking back at Donna. “So,” he drew out. “You’re still working at the White House?” It was a question, but he asked as though he knew the answer. She wondered if he’d seen the People magazine story in January or if he actually kept up with U.S. politics.

“I’m working for the first lady now. What about you?”

“Here and there,” Colin said. “Kazakhstan, Palestine, Ireland… Qumar most recently.”

“So you’re just in town for… the thing?”

He nodded, but studied her face. “Yes, a few days. But that’s not why you asked me here.” 

“No.” Donna took a deep breath; she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what she was about to ask, but since returning from Amiir, she couldn’t stop thinking that there were things she was missing; things she should know. “I can’t remember the explosion.”

“Ahh…” he said, his voice soft. 

“I remember talking with you, and talking to a soldier you introduced me to. Then…” she gestured to air. “Nothing really. Someone screaming maybe; I’m not sure.”

Colin shifted in his seat and looked down at the table, shifting his eyes up to look at her. “It must’ve been on the news. You can’t get the footage?”

The waitress brought their drinks and asked if they’d like to order. They both said no and Donna waited until she was gone to speak again. “I’ve seen the footage. It’s not close, it’s not detailed, it’s not… what happened. It’s only after what happened.” 

“Donna…”

“It changed my whole life, Colin. My whole life. Everyone died but me and I can’t remember it.” She stopped and looked at him. “I only know one other person who was there, Colin, and she… it’s just not something she can talk about.”

Colin bent his head and sighed loudly. He ran a hand over his face and through the little hair he had and looked back up at her. “You’re sure?”

She paused for several seconds, staring out the window at the rain. When she looked back at him she nodded more confidently than she felt. “I need to know what happened to me.” 

“Ok,” he sighed, sitting up straighter and picking up his glass. He drank a good portion of it and sat it back down on the table, then looked at her. “It was Gaza, so I’d heard explosions before. But never one that loud. By the time I turned towards the noise, the SUV you were in was in the air and upside down...” 

 

CUT TO MORTON’S RESTAURANT

Sam walked quickly inside while wiping water off his coat. He took it off, handed it to the young woman behind the coat check counter and waited for his ticket, then continued on to the maitre d’. 

“Mr. Seaborn,” the maitre d’ said, recognizing him from countless business meetings. “How are you this evening?”

Sam smiled at the young man. “Wet, but fine, thanks. I’m meeting my fiancée here.”

“Yes, sir. She’s been seated. Right this way.”

Sam followed him to a table near the fireplace. Lauren was drinking a glass of red wine and reading the menu. “Hi,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

Lauren smiled politely but insincerely and turned her head so his kiss landed on her cheek instead of her lips. He lingered there a bit and then stood upright and sat down across from her. 

“May I bring you something to drink?” the maitre d’ asked.

Sam glanced at the menu. “A glass of the house red for now.”

“Very well sir,” the man said, leaving.

Sam looked back over at Lauren and smiled. “You look great.” 

“Thanks,” she said uneasily.

“How was your day?”

“Fine,” she said, re-opening her menu and studying it. 

“Anything exciting happen?”

 

Lauren sighed and looked over her menu at him. “You’re a half hour late and I’m hungry. Can we just order?”

Sam closed his eyes for a brief second. “I got away as soon as I could. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said without taking her eyes off the menu. 

 

CUT TO INT. WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM

 

“…will now be paying eighteen point four billion dollars for the three-thousand mile pipeline instead of the eleven billion originally agreed upon. In addition to that, the Kazakhstan government has agreed to re-do last year’s presidential election, which is widely believed by citizens to have been fraudulent.”

“Lester…” 

Lester looked up from the briefing and around at the reporters with hands raised. “Yeah… Mike.” 

“Will President Nazarbayev be running in the election?”

“Yes,” Lester said matter of factly before looking around the room again. “Katie.”

“Lester, what’s the administration’s reaction to this deal?”

“Cautious optimism. General McClain, chairman of the joint chiefs, has been in Astana for the last three days, attending negotiations with Russia, China and Kazakhstan, and he believes all three countries are looking for the best way to handle this situation peacefully. Negotiations will continue at eight o’clock local time, which is in about…” he looked down at his watch. “Four hours.”

Questions continued firing at him and he pointed to the newest reporter from The Post. “Jeff.”

“When do you expect the thirty thousand troops back in the U.S.?”

“Details of that are still being worked out, but if China and Russia each withdraw the troops they’ve agreed to withdraw by the week of December tenth as discussed, U.S. troops could be arriving home the week of the seventeenth.”

The side door opened and Lou walked in and up to the podium. She handed him a piece of paper, which he scanned quickly before looking back up to the press. “Ok folks, that’s it for now. We’ll have more details when the agreement has been signed, which we’re expecting will be either tomorrow or Monday. I’m calling a full-lid. You’ll be paged if needed.”

He stacked his papers as they continued shouting his name, but turned and walked from the podium without answering. He didn’t like to brag, but he was getting pretty damn good at this. As he pushed the door open to leave, Lou was standing in the hallway waiting for him. He flashed the paper before her eyes. “This true?”

“Yes. He left fifteen minutes ago.”

Lester sighed in relief. Thank goodness. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

“Make it ten,” Lou said, walking off in the direction of her office. “There’s relaxation to have.”

Lester chuckled and walked towards his office. He needed this; they all needed it. He could almost taste his first beer. 

“Troops home for Christmas? That’s straight out of a Norman Rockwell.”

Lester turned and waited as Annabeth caught up with him. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself,” he said with a grin. “What’s up?”

“The first lady’s going to Boston on Wednesday to visit…” she looked down at a clipboard in her hand. “…Joseph J. Hurly Elementary School, which is receiving three computers per classroom. We just added it, so scheduling doesn’t have it yet.”

Lester shook his head and started walking again. “Josh is gone and we’re going to get drunk. I don’t care about Boston.”

“Wheels up is at nine,” she said, ignoring him and nearly jogging to keep up with his long strides. “She arrives at the school at eleven, takes a tour, attends an assembly where she’s speaking for fifteen minutes, hugs a few kids, and will be back here by three when the kids get home from school.”

“Seriously,” Lester said, walking into his office and behind his desk. “Josh is gone for the night. We’re done working.”

She stared at him for a second. “Who’s going?”

Lester clicked on his e-mail and typed in his password. “It’s your trip; I don’t care who you take,” he said without looking up at her.

 

“Tonight. Who’s going to get drunk?”

“Oh.” Lester looked up at her and smiled, thoughts of pool and darts popping into his head. “Probably anyone in the building, including the president, who’s had to be around Josh for the last week. It’s been like the campaign all over again.”

Annabeth pondered this for a second. “I’ll come.”

“We’re meeting in the lobby in ten minutes,” he said, going back to his e-mail.

“Got it,” she said, turning around and heading for the door.

“Let me ask you something,” he said just before she walked out. 

“What?” she asked, turning back to him.

“Is the first lady’s office commenting on the pictures in The Post previewing tomorrow’s exhibit?”

“We’re using the company line,” Annabeth replied, walking further into his office. “The pictures being displayed at the exhibit are a true representation of what’s happening in the Middle East.”

“But that’s not going to be the question you get.”

“I know,” Annabeth sighed. “But she hasn’t decided if she’s going.”

 

CUT TO MORTON’S RESTAURANT

Sam listened to Lauren order, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. This was what she meant the night before when she told him the necklace he gave her didn’t make up for his apathy in their relationship. She wanted an effort, not a gift, and while her obvious displeasure with him in recent months hadn’t made this any easier, he knew she had a point. He could’ve been on time for dinner; he could’ve called Josh on his way to the restaurant and told him about the meeting with the DCCC. Or he could’ve told him tomorrow. He knew when he left the meeting that he only had twenty minutes to meet Lauren, but he still chose to go back to the White House. He was going to have to try harder.

The waiter turned to him and he ordered, then handed over his menu. “Could we get some bread please?” he asked.

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring some right out.”

He glanced over at Lauren, who was frowning as she often did recently, but waited until they were alone again to speak. “How about after dinner, we climb under the covers with a bottle of wine and watch an old black and white?”

A ghost of a smile played across her lips. “We used to do that all the time.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s the perfect rainy night activity.”

“You don’t have to go back in?”

He shook his head. “I’m all yours.”

She quirked her mouth and looked over towards the fireplace as if she didn’t believe him. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but he couldn’t blame her for doubting him so he let it go. The waiter appeared and placed a basket of bread and butter down on the table and Sam cut a slice off and buttered it, then placed it on a small plate for her.

“So,” he said, trying to deflect attention from his work schedule. “How was your day?”

She took a bite of her bread and chewed while watching him. “It was work; fine I guess.”

“Any new exciting cases?”

She shook her head. “No. But I got a call from Rachelle Clark.” 

“Really?” he asked, somewhat surprised. Rachelle and Lauren had worked together at Miller-Peters-Bradford in LA, but they’d never been close friends. “How is she?”

“Michael Peters passed away.” 

“Oh,” he breathed out, taking her hand across the table and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled softly and looked down at their joined hands before looking up and nodding slightly. “The funeral’s Monday; I need to be there.”

“Of course. Are you… you’re ok?”

“Yes,” she said, her smile widening the slightest bit at Sam’s concern. “We weren’t close, but he was my boss for six years and I should be there.”

Their salads arrived and they ate silently for a few minutes. It was, strangely enough, one of the first comfortable meals they’d had together in a while. “What else did Rachelle have to say?” he asked around a bite.

“Not a lot; she had a list of phone calls to make so she didn’t have much time. They just got a new case involving a divorced man who took his children for the weekend and left the country. She couldn’t say much about it, but she seemed to think winning it could mean a change in child protection laws.”

“They’re defending the mother?”

“Yes. It was Michael’s case, but they’re going to have to reassign it.” She took a sip of her wine. “They’re also going to have to appoint another partner.”

“Who are they leaning towards?”

She tilted her head and thought about it for a few seconds. “It’d be mine if I was there, but I’d guess they’re looking at Eric.”

 

CUT TO INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT 

Josh walked inside, his hair dripping wet and his coat leaking water on the floor, and was surprised by the darkness of the apartment. He flicked on the light by the door and called Donna’s name; there was no answer. He kicked off his wet shoes and dropped his backpack, then walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He took a long drink and walked into the bedroom looking for her. When he came up empty, he started telling himself that there was nothing to worry about even as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her cell. Her phone went directly to voicemail and he hung up and checked his own messages in case he’d missed her call. He didn’t have any, and walked back into the living room and sat on the couch, hanging his head. He hated fighting with her. 

CUT TO BOSCO’S RESTAURANT

Donna stood up and reached for her purse with shaking hands. She’d asked for details and he’d given them to her as unapologetically as he’d shown her the real Gaza two and half years earlier. The noise, the chaos, the blood, the few people in the crowd who cheered… It was exactly what she asked for and she thought she might be sick. 

She took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. She could handle this. Colin stood and watched her as if worried, but let her walk ahead of him towards the door. She got her trench coat and umbrella as he held the door open for her, and she put her umbrella up and walked into the rain.

He followed her outside and stood next to her under his own umbrella as they each waited for a cab. “You’re ok?”

She smiled bravely and hoped he didn’t know her well enough to read her face. “Yes. Thank you.”

He paused and then nodded reluctantly. “How’s Josh, by the way?”

“He’s good,” she replied with a fake smile.

“Really? I can’t imagine he wants you to come tomorrow night.”

Donna’s jaw tightened and she turned towards the street. “Josh is supportive of my decisions.”

“Of course,” Colin said. Silence stretched and he looked down the street for a cab. “I always meant to apologize to you, you know.”

This surprised Donna and she turned towards him. “Why?”

He didn’t face her, just stared out at the road. “I didn’t belong in that hospital and I knew it. But I stayed anyway, and that was partly because it irked Josh.”

Donna just looked at him. She didn’t know how she was supposed to react to that. At one point, she might have been mad that he’d stayed for the wrong reasons, but the truth was that it didn’t matter anymore. “There’s a rather long list of reasons it took Josh and me so long to get together and you’re very low on it,” she finally replied. “It was my fault; I should’ve asked you to go.”

He looked over at her and nodded. “I never had a chance with you.”

She smiled. “You didn’t want one anyway.”

He chuckled and then looked back at the road. A cab approached and he held his arm up. It pulled slowly up to the curb, splashing water onto the sidewalk, and he reached over and the opened the back door, then gestured for Donna to get inside.

Donna slid into the cab and looked back at him. “Thank you, Colin,” she said seriously. It was hard to hear, but she was strong enough to hear it. This was something she had to do.

Colin nodded and watched her for a second. “Will I see you tomorrow night?”

She smiled flatly. “Yes.”

ACT 2

INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT 

10:00PM 

Donna stretched her neck and hesitated at the door. She didn’t want to have the conversation she was about to have, but the Secret Service was standing there, so she knew he was home. She smiled uneasily at the agent and opened the door. She couldn’t put it off forever.

Josh was sitting on the couch in a pair of well-worn jeans and a navy blue sweater, drinking a beer and reading something on his laptop. On a typical night, the sight of him like that would’ve been a turn-on, but this night wasn’t going to end like that; she was sure of it.

“Hi,” she said quietly, unbuttoning her trench coat and hanging it up on the coat rack in the corner.

He looked up at her and without smiling, looked back down at his computer. “I’ve been trying to call you all night.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “I had my phone off.”

He stopped typing but didn’t look up. “Meeting?” he asked as though he knew that wasn’t the case, but hoped he was wrong.

“No.” Silence filled the room and she took a deep breath. “I was with Colin.”

CUT TO INT. SAM AND LAUREN’S APARTMENT

Sam tossed his keys down on the table by the door as Lauren started peeling off her coat. He walked up behind her and helped her, then hung both their coats in the closet and circled her waist with his arms. “How about that movie?” he asked softly into her ear.

Lauren disentangled herself from him and took a few steps, picking the mail up off the coffee table and flipping through it. “Maybe you should call the office; make sure you don’t have to go back in.”

“I don’t,” he said, walking to where she stood. “And I don’t have to be in until ten tomorrow because of Josh’s mood.”

Her hand stopped, holding the mail still. “Josh’s mood?” she asked with a quirk of her lips.

“It’s not good,” he said with a grin.

“Ahh…”

“So we could go to bed early, sleep in late…” he trailed off suggestively.

“Almost like a weekend,” she said with the slightest attitude as she went back to perusing the mail.

He closed his eyes briefly and walked towards the stereo. Maybe music would help. “You’re going to California Sunday?”

Lauren shook her head. “Tomorrow night. There’s a brunch Sunday morning.”

“I’ll talk to Josh,” he said as he turned on the stereo and looked for a CD to put in. “See if I can…”

“Don’t bother,” she said, cutting him of. “We both know the answer.”

He paused with a CD in his hand and took a deep breath before turning to face her. “I know you’re not happy with me right now, but I’m trying here and it would really help if you’d recognize that.”

 

CUT TO INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT

Josh stood up slowly and faced Donna. “You went to see Colin without telling me about it?”

She stared him down for a few seconds before replying defensively. “I knew what you’d say.”

“You knew what I’d say…” he repeated slowly.

“Yes,” she said unapologetically. “You would’ve told me not to go. But I needed to go.”

“I don’t care what I would’ve told you! You don’t lie about it!” Josh shouted.

“I didn’t lie,” Donna insisted. 

“Don’t get political on me. You didn’t tell me, you didn’t discuss it with me, you turned your phone off so I wouldn’t find out! That’s a lie!”

“You’re being ridiculous about all of this!” she yelled back. “I was supposed to tell you I was meeting Colin so your passive-aggressive jealousy could rear its ugly head? Pardon me if I wasn’t interested in that! I’ve got bigger things on my mind right now!”

“Jealous? We’re back to that?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not jealous of Colin Ayres! How many times do I have to say it? That’s not what this is about.”

“What is this about then Josh? I got off work, I met an old acquaintance for a drink, I came home. End of story.”

“You know damn well what this is about! I’m trying to protect you.”

“That’s not your job!” she half-shouted.

“It is!” he yelled before taking a breath, running his hands over his face. “It is, damn it,” he seethed quietly. “That’s what this is; that’s what this means,” he said, gesturing between them. “You get to take care of me, and damn it, I get to take care of you! If you want to meet Colin Ayres, you tell me and I go with you!”

“No; I tell you and you tell me not to go, just like you’ve been doing for the last week! I’ve been telling you that going to this exhibit is something I need to do and you’ve been telling me not to do it.”

“No. You’ve been telling me you’re fine. Just like you told me two weeks ago when you got back from Amiir.” 

“This is different.”

“This isn’t at all different,” he insisted. “And what if the exhibit had pictures of Rosslyn and I told you it was something I needed to do? What would you say?”

Tears stung her eyes and she looked quickly away.

“That’s what I thought.”

Donna closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. “If you felt that you needed to see them, I’d hate it,” she said quietly. “But I’d support your decision.”

Josh dropped onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. “You don’t have anything to prove to anyone, Donna.”

“That’s not what this is.”

Josh looked up. “Yes it is. If it weren’t, if you just needed to see them, you’d ask him for a copy of them.”

She shook her head. “No, I need to…”

 

“Why?” he asked, standing again. “Why do you need to see them in public with the press there and everyone waiting to see you break down? Why do you have to put yourself through that?”

“That won’t happen,” she replied stubbornly. “I can handle this.” She’d handled the conversation with Colin; she could handle this.

“Donna,” he screeched. “You shouldn’t have to!”

 

CUT TO INT. SAM AND LAUREN’S APARTMENT

“What… I’m supposed to be impressed that after almost a year of living here, you’re finally trying to make this work?” Lauren answered, putting the mail down on the coffee table near the leather couch.

“That’s not fair.” 

“And how exactly is being a half hour late for dinner trying, anyway? I suppose I should be happy that you weren’t two hours late like usual?”

“Lauren,” he said sighing deeply. “You know my…”

“Job is important,” she finished for him. “Yes I do. How could I forget? You’ve been telling me that since the day we moved here. But we’re important too.” She paused. “Or at least we used to be.”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m doing my best.”

“I know that,” she said quietly. “That’s why I’m still here. But you keep telling me it’s going to get better, and I want to know when that’s going to be. Another year, another four, another seven…”

“I know it’s frustrating for you, but...”

“No,” she said sternly. “You missing dinner twice a week would be frustrating. You getting called into work in the middle of the night twice a month would be frustrating. You having to work three Saturdays a month would be frustrating. But you miss dinner five times a week, you work until after midnight four times a week, you work every Saturday and every Sunday, and when you’re here, you’re tied to your damn palm pilot… that’s beyond frustrating!”

CUT TO INT. HAWK AND DOVE 

Lou reached into the bowl in the middle of the table, taking a small handful of peanuts and putting them down in front of her. She picked one up and started peeling away the shell as she looked over at the boys. Bram was leaned over a pool table taking a shot while Lester smirked and made comments she couldn’t hear. Otto stood next to Lester, whom she thought he might idolize, but unlike the other two, wasn’t holding a stick. 

“Do you think we’d be capitalizing too much if we sent the president to meet some of the soldiers when they come home next month?” she asked Annabeth, who sat across from her nursing a margarita.

Annabeth considered the question before answering. “He hasn’t been to Kazakhstan, he hasn’t been to Qumar, he hasn’t been to Gaza. The first lady’s been closer to the battle field than he has.” 

“So... if we send him to meet the troops, it’ll look like he’s meeting them there because he’s afraid to go overseas?” Lou asked doubtfully.

Annabeth took a sip of the green concoction and wiped salt off her lip. “The president’s been in the armed forces; he’s not going to appear afraid.”

“Then...”

“He might look like he can’t be bothered with going overseas.”

“He can’t. He’s busy.”

“While that’s true,” Annabeth said with a snicker. “Is that something you want to advertise to the men and women who’ve been risking their lives at his request?”

“Bartlet’s request.”

“The president’s request,” Otto said, throwing himself into the booth next to Annabeth. “It doesn’t matter who the president was at the time.”

Annabeth nodded at him; he must’ve learned that from Josh. “How’s the game going?”

“They don’t let me play,” Otto mumbled. 

“So,” Lou said, tipping her head back and taking a swig of her beer. “Because he hasn’t been overseas, he’s not allowed to address the returning soldiers?”

“What are we talking about?” Otto asked, picking up random bottles of beer looking for one with liquid left in it. “I thought we weren’t talking about work tonight.”

“Lou’s questioning whether or not to send the president to meet with returning troops next month,” Annabeth said as she slid closer to the wall to give Otto more room.

“We’re not even sure that’s going to happen yet, right?” 

“Assuming that it is,” Lou said.

“We’re assuming that Russia, China, and Kazakhstan are all going to do what they say they’re going to do when they say they’re going to do it?”

“That is a big assumption,” Annabeth agreed.

“I’m not saying he gives a two hour speech on his view of foreign policy,” Lou said, ignoring their comment. “I’m saying he shakes a few hands, thanks the soldiers on behalf of the country for their hard work.”

“The sound bite at the end of the night is still a soldier holding his toddler on his hip and hugging his crying wife,” Otto said, taking Lou’s beer from her hand and draining it.

Lou glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be asking the grownups if you can play their game?” 

Otto smiled and turned to Annabeth. “That means I had a good point.”

“What does?”

“When she picks on me for being young. It means I did something good and she doesn’t want to acknowledge it.”

“Shut up,” Lou said.

Annabeth looked at Lou and then back at Otto with an amused smile. “What does that mean?”

Otto shrugged and grinned, looking back at Bram and Lester. “That just means she wants me to shut up.”

“Yes, please,” Lou said just as her pager went off. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out. It was the White House. “Shit,” she mumbled standing up and reaching for her phone.

She dialed her phone and looked over at the pool table as it rang. Lester was pulling his pager out his pocket and saying something as he looked at the display. He and Bram put their sticks down and started back towards the table. “So much for getting drunk,” Lou mumbled.

 

CUT TO INT. SAM AND LAUREN’S APARTMENT

“I told you this would be tough. From the very beginning I told you this would be tough.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d change into someone I hardly recognize. You didn’t tell me that when you were here, you’d be on your computer or your cell phone or reading through legislation at the dinner table. You didn’t tell me you’d be this distant or that you’d avoid the topic of the wedding at all costs, or that you wouldn’t even notice how unhappy I am.”

“I know you’re unhappy,” he spit out. “I see it every time you look at me.”

Lauren took a calming breath. “Sam, maybe this isn’t …”

“We can make this work,” he said quickly, not letting her finish her thought.

Lauren closed her eyes and let the room fall silent. “Do you even want to?” she asked quietly a moment later.

“Of course I do,” he replied softly.

“Really?” she asked almost hopefully. “Because it doesn’t seem to bother you; that we’re not doing well. You’re so consumed with your work that… it doesn’t seem important to you.”

Sam walked up to her and took her hand in his. “Then that’s a mistake on my part, because it is important to me. You are important to me,” he said even though he could think of dozens of times he’d put work in front of her by choice and even more times that he himself questioned her importance in his life.

“Am I important enough…” she closed her eyes and shook her head, then looked at him again. “Are we important enough to you? Important enough to leave this place and go back home?”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You can’t put us first here, Sam. You can’t put the two of us above your work. Let’s go back to LA; back to Sunday mornings in bed and Saturdays out on the boat. Back to black and white movies and jobs that came a distant second.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s crazy, Lauren.”

“It’s not crazy. It’s the answer.”

“No it’s not,” he said, shaking his head. “I love my job.”

“You loved your job there too,” she argued back.

“You can’t…” He stopped talking and started pacing the room between the coffee table and the couch, pausing and looking up at her. “You can’t just spring this on me. Just ask me to…”

“I can,” she said, cutting him off. “I can ask that. Just like you did. You came home one night and asked me to come here. You asked me to do that for you and now I’m asking you to do this for us.”

Sam stared at her, searching for something to say, for some sign that she didn’t mean it. He looked down at the floor while the silence stretched. 

And then his cell phone started ringing. 

 

CUT TO INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT

“I’m telling you I need to do this,” Donna said. “And I’m asking you to support me.”

Josh laughed harshly. “You can’t think I’m going to go to a gallery where strangers will be walking around with champagne and making small talk while looking at pictures on the wall of you dying as some sort of entertainment! Tell me you don’t think that.” 

His words stung and she shivered involuntarily. “I didn’t ask you to go with me,” she said defensively a moment later.

“Well that’s good,” he said loudly. “Because I’m not going to.” Josh’s pager vibrated on the coffee table near the door just as the cell phone next to it started ringing. “Shit.”

Donna looked at the table and then at Josh. “Answer it.”

He stared at her for a second before walking over and picking up his cell phone. “Yeah,” he answered while picking up his pager and looking at the display.

Donna watched him listening to whoever was on the other end. He sighed and asked when, and she turned around and looked down at her hands. They were shaking again.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone. “I’ll be right there.”

She turned back and watched as he closed the phone and sat it back down. Then he looked back at her.

“I…”

“Go,” she said quietly. “We’ve been having this conversation for a week. I’m done with it.”

He watched her for another moment before taking his jacket from the coat rack and putting it on. Without a word, he picked up his keys, his pager, and his cell phone, then opened the door. He turned back at the last second and looked at her. “Please don’t go to this. Don’t do this to yourself, Donna. If not for you then for me,” he pleaded before turning and leaving.

ACT 3

INT. SITUATION ROOM

11:15 PM

All activity stopped as Josh and the president walked into the Sit Room. “I thought this was a day of good news, General,” the president said, sitting down.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” General Glen Moorehead, the national security advisor, said, waiting until the president and Josh were seated before continuing. “One hour ago, at six fifteen a.m. local time, the New Hope Christian Church in Nairobi, Kenya was bombed. Local officials are still putting the fire out, but at least sixty people are presumed dead.”

“Not to sound unsympathetic,” Josh said. “But why is this a U.S. issue?”

“There were seven Americans in the church at the time.”

Josh hung his head. “Shit,” he whispered.

“Missionaries,” the president said more than asked.

“Yes sir,” the general replied. “We believe they were handing out breakfast to locals there.”

“Were they the target?” 

“We don’t know that yet, sir. We’re working with Kenya and Nairobi officials to determine suspects, but it’s likely that it was a Muslim attack.”

“How likely?” Josh asked.

 

General Moorehead paused before answering. “A Christian minister in Africa makes about a thousand dollars a year. It’s becoming not uncommon for ministers to be approached and offered ten thousand dollars and a new car in exchange for converting their entire congregation to Islam.”

“What does that…”

“This minister said no.” 

 

CUT TO INT. OFFICE OF THE DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF 

1:00 AM

Sam stood behind his desk, the phone propped between his ear and his shoulder, writing notes on a yellow legal pad in his hand. Bram stood on the other side of the desk quietly, waiting for instructions. When Sam hung up, he ripped the paper out of the notebook and handed it to Bram.

“Find someone from African Leadership and make sure they weren’t breaking any laws.”

Bram looked at his watch. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

“Seven of their missionaries were killed three hours ago; they’re up.”

“I’m not… I’m not familiar with Kenya laws. Is it illegal to you know… do preachy things there?”

Sam shook his head. “Not completely, but I don’t know the details. Find out what they were doing and what they were legally allowed to do.”

“Are we telling…” he paused and looked down at the paper Sam had handed him. “…African Leadership to get their missionaries out of Kenya?”

Sam shook his head. “Not yet. I just met with Josh; they’re fairly certain this was an isolated incident. Just make sure they’re doing things by the book over there.” 

Bram nodded but made no move to leave. Sam sat down and looked at the phone. He should call Lauren. He ran a hand over his face and glanced up to see Bram still standing there. “What?”

“If they weren’t doing things by the book,” Bram said quietly. “That doesn’t mean it was ok to blow them up.”

Sam closed his eyes. “I know,” he sighed. “Just find out, will you?”

 

CUT TO INT. OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF STAFF 

3:15AM

Otto sat on the couch in Josh’s office next to Lou. Lou’s head was back and her eyes were closed and if it weren’t for the fact that he knew she snored lightly, he’d think she was asleep. He looked at Lester, sitting in a chair next to the couch with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his joined hands. He was glad he’d finished the VFW speech, because there wasn’t going to be anytime this weekend to work on it. “How long…”

“It’s a Sit Room update,” Lester answered without looking up. “It could be a while.”

“We’ve lost the news cycle for Kazakhstan,” Lou mumbled. “Three countries meeting right now and no one gives a shit.”

“The sooner we get the names of the victims out and some suspects into custody, the sooner we get back to Kazakhstan.”

“Why don’t we have names yet?” Otto asked.

“We do,” Lester replied, sitting up and cracking his neck. “African Leadership gave them to us. But until their bodies have been identified, we’re just assuming they were in the building when it exploded.” 

Otto nodded. “When it’s been confirmed, the president’s going to want to call the families.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Lou said. Otto turned and looked at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were still closed and except for her voice, she was the picture of relaxation. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“It’s not military.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Lester said. “They were killed in a foreign country in a possible terrorist attack. The families need to know that we’re doing everything we can do.” 

Otto looked at Lester. “What can we do exactly?”

Lester paused. “That depends on whether or not the Kenyan government had anything to do with it, I guess.”

 

“Or if they condone it,” Lou said, sitting up.

“Ok,” Josh said as he walked into the room with Sam and Bram trailing behind him. Without looking at any of them he walked to his desk and dropped a briefing memo on it, then turned and leaned back against it. “Fifty-three confirmed dead; five of them Americans.”

“The other two?” Lester asked, picking up a tablet of paper and taking notes.

Josh rubbed an eye with his hand. “They’re still identifying bodies.”

“Have they found anyone alive?” Bram asked hopefully.

Josh nodded. “Six, four of them children. But no Americans.” He turned to Sam. “What have you found out from African Leadership?”

Sam looked at Bram, who cleared his throat before speaking. “They weren’t breaking any laws. The church is well-known in Nairobi because they give away food there twice daily. The missionaries had been there for five days helping with that and handing out clothing and Bibles. They were also teaching at an orphanage behind the church.”

“The kids at the orphanage?” Lester asked in an alarmed voice.

“All unharmed,” Josh sighed, dropping his head to look at the floor. “The orphanage is 80 yards away.” 

Lester took a deep breath and nodded.

“I spoke with Edward Watkins, the national director of African Leadership,” Bram continued. “He said the church has been there for fifteen years and has American missionaries there several times a year running medical clinics, building onto the orphanage and training pastors. They weren’t doing anything different this time than ever before.”

“I checked into them,” Sam added. “They’re a well-known organization; they’ve been all over Africa for thirty years. There’s no reason to believe they aren’t telling the truth.”

“Did they know the pastor had been offered money to convert his congregation?” Josh asked.

Bram nodded. “Yes. It was about a month ago. But Watkins said that’s happened all over Africa and has never ended in violence for one of their churches. He said that until now, they’ve been more concerned about the pastors who say yes than about the safety of pastors who say no.”

Lou nodded and turned to Josh. “Is the group that offered the money being questioned?” she asked.

“Yes,” Josh said before turning to Lester. “But we’re not saying anything about that until it’s confirmed. Until we know differently, we’re not turning this into a religion thing.”

Lester raised an eyebrow. “It was a church.”

“That could’ve been bombed by someone who didn’t like the food they handed out,” Lou said. “Until we know for sure, we’re not accusing anyone. Muslims get a bad rap.”

Lester chuckled. “And Christians don’t?”

“Not as bad, no.” 

“They didn’t know better?” Otto asked himself before looking around the room. “They didn’t know better than to go into a country that’s seventy percent Muslim and preach about Jesus?”

“Kenya isn’t seventy percent Muslim,” Sam said. “It’s more like thirty percent.”

“That doesn’t make it safe,” Otto said. “There’s a huge Islamic movement going on in northern Africa.” 

“Which is why they aren’t going to stop,” Lester said, looking up from the floor.

Otto stood and leaned against the wall. “They’re asking for trouble.”

Lester looked at Otto. “‘Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.’”

Otto’s forehead crinkled. 

“What’s that?” Bram asked.

One side of Lester’s mouth quirked up. “Matthew 28:19. They aren’t going to stop.”

 

CUT TO INT. PRESS ROOM 

3:20 AM

Lester walked into the press room and immediately heard his name being shouted. He ignored them, as he always did, and walked to the podium. “We’ve got very little new news for you. At this point, sixty-seven people have been confirmed dead in Nairobi and six are wounded. The wounded are all in critical condition and are being treated for burns and smoke inhalation. None of them are Americans. The seven Americans in the church were part of a short-term mission’s trip through a nonprofit organization called African Leadership. In Astana, talks have resumed concerning the tentative agreement Kazakhstan, China and Russia reached yesterday. A finalized deal is expected to be reached today.” He paused and looked around the room at the hands going up. “Jeff.”

“When will you be releasing the names of the victims?”

Lester sighed. They weren’t getting Kazakhstan back until they had answers about Nairobi. “Once their families have been notified.” He pointed to another reporter. “Michael.”

“Have any groups taken responsibility for the bombing?”

“No.”

“Are there any suspects?” someone yelled out.

Lester shot a look in the general vicinity of the voice and then turned and perused the other side of the room. He’d spent a year training these people. You want to ask a question, you wait until you’re called on. “Patricia.”

“Lester, what can you tell us about suspects?”

Lester gave her an evil eye. “You’re just sticking up for your comrade.” He looked down at his notes. “Authorities in Nairobi have several leads, but haven’t taken anyone into custody as of twenty minutes ago. I’ll know more when I’m updated at five o’clock.”

“Follow-up?” Patricia asked. Lester nodded. “Do you know if the suspects are Muslim?”

“They aren’t ruling anything out at this point, Muslim or otherwise.”

 

CUT TO INT. OPERATIONS BULLPEN 

4:25 AM

Bram sat in his darkened cubicle with his elbows on his desk and his phone to his ear. It was his third conversation with Edward Watkins, and each time the man seemed closer and closer to the edge.

“Have you had a chance to contact all of the families, Mr. Watkins?”

The man paused before answering. “The group was from a local church; mine, in fact. Our pastor and several of our elders are with them now.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bram said softly. “I didn’t realize…” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“Do they have…” the man stopped and took a deep breath. “Do they have positive identification of the members of our team yet?” he asked in a tired, weary voice.

Bram wiped a hand over his face. This was perhaps the hardest thing he’d done since they’d taken office. But also one of the most meaningful. “Five of them had readable id’s on them. I’m afraid the other two are going to require dental records.”

“Oh, Father,” the man whispered. 

“I can take care of that if you’d like,” Bram said quietly. He couldn’t fix this, certainly, but here was a man he could bring some comfort to and that would have to be enough.

“No,” the man answered quietly. “I just…” He took a shaky breath. “They aren’t missionaries to me. They’re friends.”

“I understand.”

“Which two do we need dental records for?”

Bram looked down at his desk. “Heather McEntire and Clint Sizemore.”

A long silence followed on the other end. “I’ll make sure a copy is faxed to you as soon as we’re able to contact their dentists,” the man choked out. “If you could send them on to the authorities in Nairobi…”

“Of course,” Bram said softly.

ACT FOUR

INT. OVAL OFFICE 

4:30PM SATURDAY

Josh sat on a couch in the Oval Office with his hand over his mouth, hiding the yawn he couldn’t stop from escaping, while listening to the phone conversation with the chairman of the joint chiefs, who was in Astana. He glanced over at Glen Morehead and Secretary Brenton, who were on the couch across from him and looked perfectly put together even though they’d been up just as long as Josh had, and shifted, attempting to smooth out the sweater he wore into the office the night before. He looked down at his watch and shook his head lightly. She’d be leaving for the exhibit in the next few hours and he still hadn’t convinced her not to go.

“And Russia and China agreed to withdraw the troops?” the president asked into the phone from next to Josh.

“Yes, sir,” General McClain answered from Astana. “Both countries will withdraw fifty percent by December tenth.”

“And the election monitoring?” Secretary Brenton asked.

“Kazakhstan agreed to allow Russian officials to monitor; no one else.” 

Josh looked over at the president and raised an eyebrow. “Is that going to work, General?” he asked into the phone.

“I’m sorry, is this Josh?” the man asked.

“Yes sir.”

“I can’t be certain, Josh, but we’re not getting anything else out of them. It took three hours to get them to agree to just that. Fortunately, Russia’s in a different position than this time last year. They were happy with last year’s results because this candidate was in their pocket and owed them several favors. That applies to both candidates now.”

“Lucky for them,” the president said sarcastically.

“Yes sir,” General McClain replied. “But with both candidates so heavily indebted to them, there’s at least a chance that they’ll monitor the election fairly.”

“When does the agreement demand the withdrawal of our troops, General?” Secretary Brenton asked into the phone.

“It calls for all three countries to withdraw one hundred percent six months from the date of the election, but that’s contingent on several things, including public reaction to the election results. However, I told them we were planning on withdrawing twenty percent by the end of the year.”

“That’s contingent on the withdrawal of their fifty percent?” the president asked.

“Of course, sir.”

There was a tap on the door and Ronna walked in. “President Kibaki is on line one,” she said quietly to the president. “You wanted to take that call,” she reminded him.

The president nodded and Ronna turned and left. “Good job General,” he said into the phone as he stood up. 

“My pleasure, sir.”

The president disconnected the phone and walked to his desk. The others followed and stood in front of it, waiting for him to take the call from the president of Kenya. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself before hitting the speakerphone button. “President Kibaki.” 

“President Santos,” the man said in broken English. “I wish to inform you personally that we have made an arrest for the bombing of the New Hope Church in Nairobi.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes sir. The same group which approached Pastor Wamalwa approached another pastor today and insinuated the same thing would happen to his church if he refused to agree to their terms. The pastor called the authorities; it was enough to make the arrest.”

“Mr. President,” Josh said. “Has something happened there recently to create tension between Christians and Muslims?”

“This is not the first time such a thing has happened; it is simply the first time it has affected the United States.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” President Santos said. “How are you fighting it?”

“We find the guilty party and punish them. It is not a widespread problem, and there is little more we can do.”

“Well, please let us know if we can be of assistance.” 

“I will, Mr. President.”

“And thank you for calling, President Kibaki. I know it’s late there, but I appreciate the update.”

“As I told you this morning, Mr. President, we are grateful for these organizations which send food, supplies and medical personnel. We do not support this morning’s explosion, and are doing everything within our power to resolve the situation. I will keep you updated on our progress.”

“Thank you Mr. President,” the president replied before hanging up. He looked up to see Margaret standing in the doorway between Josh’s office and his, and waved her in. 

Margaret smiled politely and walked quickly inside and up to Josh, handing him a note and waiting there while he read it. “I’ll be right there,” he said quietly before turning back to the president. She nodded and left.

President Santos turned to Director Morehead. “So that’s it? We do nothing about this?”

The NSA director stood a little taller. “Not exactly, sir. We’ll stay informed; make sure they’re handling the situation correctly. But it’s their jurisdiction and they seem to be on top of it.”

The president looked to Josh, who nodded. It was unfortunate, but there was little they could do and they all knew it.

“Fine,” the president said, looking back at Director Morehead. “But stay on top of it.” 

 

CUT TO INT. OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF STAFF 

CONTINUOUS

Josh walked quickly into his office where Margaret was sitting in his chair chatting on the phone. He stopped and stared incredulously at her.

“Yes,” she said with a nervous chuckle into the phone. “He’s quicker every day. It’s hard to keep up with him, actually. I never knew two year-olds could move so fast.” She paused and sat back in Josh’s chair, ignoring his presence as she listened to the phone. “Oh yes, all boy. Leo bought him a…” she stopped and turned suddenly solemn. “Leo bought him a miniature football; he carries it everywhere he goes.” She paused again to listen before smiling and nodding even though it wouldn’t be heard. “Yes sir.” She looked over at Josh. “Josh is here; would you like to speak with him?”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Josh mumbled sarcastically.

“It was nice to talk to you too.” She stood up and handed the phone to Josh. “I was just… keeping him occupied.”

Josh watched her walk to the door connecting their offices. “Leo showed me that football, you know,” he said quietly. “We were campaigning somewhere and he saw it in a window and made us late so he could go in and buy it. I thought it was a strange gift for Mallory’s daughter, but he said it was for Jack.”

Margaret smiled with watery eyes and nodded slightly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She took a deep breath. “Do you need anything?”

“Sam gone?”

She nodded. “Lauren’s flying to California for a funeral. He wanted to take her to the airport.”

“Get me Bram and Lester.”

“Right away,” she said walking into her office.

Josh watched her leave and sat down before putting the phone up to his ear. “President Bartlet,” he said respectfully. “How are you, sir?”

“I thought the sirs would stop when I left that place.”

“Not likely,” Josh said.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Josh,” the former president said jovially. “Troops home for Christmas?”

“My communication’s director is pretty happy about it,” Josh said with a grin despite himself.

“And you think they’ll sign?”

“They signed about twenty minutes ago.”

“Josh,” President Bartlet admonished teasingly. “Are you allowed to tell me that?”

Josh chuckled. “CNN will have it in a few minutes; just keep it quiet until then.”

“If I must,” President Bartlet sighed. 

Josh looked down at his watch. It was almost five and the exhibit started at seven. “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Absolutely not, sir,” Josh said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Notre Dame looks good this year,” he questioned more than stated.

“Damn right they do. Listen…”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m working on this library thing.”

 

“Yes sir, you told me.”

“I’d like to add a room about Leo.”

Josh paused. “I think that would be great,” he said quietly.

“So do I, but protocol says I can’t. President Santos gets first dibs since they were on the same ticket.”

Josh’s eyes widened. “You want him to say you can have it instead?”

“No,” he replied. “I just want him to say I can have one as well.”

Josh smiled and nodded. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you. It’s not too soon to be withdrawing troops?” Josh chuckled and President Bartlet continued quickly. “Not that I’m trying to run your administration. It’s just a question from a concerned citizen.”

“Your opinion is always welcome, sir. You know that.”

“You’re too respectful, Josh,” President Bartlet replied seriously. When Josh didn’t reply, he continued. “I was sorry to hear about the missionaries in Kenya.”

“Yes sir. We all were.”

“All the work we did, Josh; all the effort. We still live in a world where people aren’t allowed to disagree.”

Josh closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank goodness we live in a country where people are.” 

The former president’s words took Josh by surprise and he looked quickly over at the picture he kept on his desk of Donna and him. Crap. “Sir,” he said, standing. “I’m sorry, but…”

“Of course. You have a country to run; I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I look forward to it, sir.”

Josh hung up the phone and rushed around his desk and to the door. He was halfway down the hallway when Bram and Lester met up with him. “You needed us?” Lester asked.

 

“Yes,” Josh said pausing in his step. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then shook his head and continued down the hallway towards the lobby, Bram and Lester in tow. They’d have to handle this without him. “I’m leaving, but I need you to brief the press and call African Leadership…” 

 

CUT TO INT. SAM AND LAUREN’S APARTMENT

Sam unlocked the door and walked into the townhouse, nearly tripping on Lauren’s suitcase. He toed off his shoes and took off his wet coat, hanging it in the closet and pushing the coats on either side of it away so it could dry. He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. The half hour of sleep he’d gotten in his office chair had barely taken the edge off. He felt like he was going to drop.

He breathed deeply and stood up straight again, then walked further into the apartment, peeling off his two-day old suit as he went. When he reached the bedroom, he saw Lauren’s carry-on bag sitting on the bed. He walked over and fell onto the bed next to it as Lauren walked out of the bathroom with her toothbrush and contact solution. 

She smiled softly when she saw him sitting there with drooping eyes. “You look terrible.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Late night.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

She smiled slightly and put her palm on his cheek. He leaned into it slightly and took a deep breath. Moving her hand, she brushed a thumb over his lips and then went back into the bathroom. Sam opened his eyes and watched her silently. When she returned with her blow dryer and straightening iron, she went directly to the bag and put them inside. “Have you thought any more about moving back to LA?” she asked without looking at him.

Sam looked down at his lap briefly before meeting her eyes. She was looking at him half hopefully and half resigned to what he was about to say. “I love you and I want to make this work,” he said quietly, reaching out and grasping her hand lightly. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, anything you need me to do, but…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I can’t do that. I can’t move back to LA.”

She didn’t answer him; she just pulled her hand from his and turned back to her carry-on bag.

“Lauren,” he said taking the bag from her and moving it to the other side of the bed. She still didn’t answer, but she let him pull her to between his legs so he could look up at her from the bed. He took her hands in his and squeezed lightly. “You were right; I was happy in LA. But I’ve found my purpose again and it’s here. I work hard at this job because it’s important and life-altering and it makes a difference. And this president… he’s worth working for.”

 

CUT TO INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT

He rushed down the hallway towards their apartment at five forty-five, dripping wet from the continuing rain. He’d left his coat in his office and hadn’t wasted the time to go back for it, so his hair was sticking to his face and his sweater was probably ruined.

He pushed the door open, leaving his Secret Service detail in the hallway, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sitting on the couch. 

He paused there by the door, watching her for a moment, but she didn’t look up at him. She was dressed to go out; her hair perfect and her outfit definitely not work attire, and she was holding something in her hands, but was looking at the wall. He scolded himself for letting this go all night and all day before trying to repair it.

He took a few tentative steps until he was standing quietly in front her, and she finally seemed to notice him because she looked up, eyes wide and innocent. “You’re wet.”

“You’re still here,” he said softly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” she said with the slightest nod. “I’m still here.”

 

CUT TO INT. SAM AND LAUREN’S APARTMENT

Tears slipped out of Lauren’s eyes and down her cheeks and she looked away from him to the wall.

“I’ll talk to Josh,” Sam continued. “Tell him no Sundays unless it’s an emergency. I’ll work harder at getting home earlier. Bram… he’s getting better, Lauren, a lot better. I’ll start giving him more to do, take some of the pressure off myself.”

Lauren shook her head and took back one of her hands to wipe the tears off her face. “It’s not enough,” she whispered, still looking away.

“Then we’ll figure out something else,” he said, standing up and gently turning her head until her eyes met his. “I can do this,” he whispered. 

Lauren’s eyes narrowed slightly, a questioning look on her face. She watched him for several seconds before pulling back slightly and sitting on the bed. “Why are you so determined to make this work?”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly. “Because I love you.”

She smiled flatly. “I love you too. And I love what we had, but… we don’t have it anymore.”

“Lauren…”

“You know what I think?” she asked, looking up at him. “I think the reason you’re so determined to make this work is because you’ve already failed at this once and you don’t want to admit defeat again.”

“That’s not true,” he said shaking his head, even though it was at least partly true and he knew it. 

She reached out and took his hand, pulling him down next to her on the bed. “Do you really think this is working?”

He was silent for a moment. “I think we can make it work.”

“Really? Because I’m miserable here. I hate my job, I hate that we don’t have a house with a yard, that our neighbors are connected to us, that I have very few friends, that I have a fiancé who’s put off setting a wedding date for six months…”

“We’ll set it now.”

She shook her head. “You’re supposed to love me, Sam. Do you really want to keep seeing me this unhappy?”

 

CUT TO INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT

He sat down next to her as close as possible without getting her wet. She put the envelope she was holding down and looked over at him. “You didn’t get any sleep?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “There was a bombing in Kenya. A pastor who was offered money to convert his church to Islam.”

“I know,” she said. “I saw Lester’s briefings.”

“They blew up the church because the pastor said no. He wouldn’t do what they wanted, so they killed him and his congregation.”

He took a deep breath; he didn’t know how he was going to do this. How he was going to walk through that gallery and look at those pictures and not want to tell everyone there to go the hell home and leave them alone. But this was it. This was when he either let her disagree or bombed her church. He told her how he felt and she disagreed. He could either let her go alone and sit worrying about her all night long, or he could go and hold her hand and steer her out the door if and when it became too much for her. 

“I don’t want you to go to the exhibit,” he continued. “I think it’s going to be harder than what you want to admit and I hate thinking that you’re going to do that to yourself. But you’re allowed to disagree with me and I’m not allowed to yell at you for it. If you need to go, I want to be there with you.”

She smiled, tears pooling in her eyes. “Really?” she whispered hopefully.

“Yeah,” he said nodding. He leaned in and kissed her gently, his lips lingering on her sweet-tasting ones for the first time in two days. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers and breathed her in, the stress of the last few days starting to fade. “Just give me twenty minutes to shower.”

She pulled back and shook her head. “Thank you,” she whispered. “But I’m not going.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I was going to go,” she said. “All day long, I’d planned to go. But you asked me not to, and you wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t important to you.”

“I never should’ve asked that.”

“Why not?” she asked with a slight smile. “I’ve asked you to do things before, things that were just for me. Why can’t you do the same?”

“Because this isn’t about me, Donna. It’s about you.”

“Exactly,” she said nodding. “That’s how worried you are.”

He sighed heavily. “I am. I am worried…”

“And I’ve been so consumed with finding out what happened to me and so consumed with being strong and worthy of living through that...” She looked down at her lap. “…when the others didn’t… that I refused to even see the possibility that this might be too much.” She looked up at him. “But it is, isn’t it? It is too much to do in front of people?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed out. “But that doesn’t make you weak.”

 

“That’s not what people will say.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he said, cupping her cheeks with his palms. “Not a single person who will be in that room tonight has been through what you’ve been through. They have no idea how strong you are.”

She closed her eyes and nodded and he leaned forward and kissed her eyelids, then pulled her into a hug. 

“I’m sorry I lied about Colin,” she mumbled into his chest.

“I know,” he said, turning and kissing her temple. “And you know I’m never going to like anyone you were with before me, but if you need to see those pictures…”

“I do,” she said, pulling back and looking at him. “I do need to see them.”

He nodded, his stomach clenching at the thought of it. “Then I’ll call him; ask him…”

“I already did,” she said, cutting him off. She reached over to the coffee table and picked up the envelope she’d been holding when he walked in. He took it from her and held it between them. “I know you should never have to see these…” she stopped and took a shaky breath. “But if you could…”

“I’ll be there the whole time,” he whispered, pulling her back in to his chest. 

 

CUT TO INT. SAM AND LAUREN’S APARTMENT

Sam opened the door and held it for Lauren as she walked outside carrying her carry-on bag. He followed behind her, carrying a large suitcase, and they walked down the steps of their building and to a waiting cab. The driver got out and took the suitcase from him to put into the trunk and Sam walked Lauren to the back door and held it open for her.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to take you to the airport?”

She nodded, her eyes red, and he let silence fall between them while he looked out at the rain-soaked street. 

“The rain stopped,” she whispered, and he nodded before looking back at her. 

“Finally.”

They looked at each other for several long seconds before she took a deep breath. “This is for the best you know.”

He didn’t know that. He didn’t know how asking a woman to change her entire life, then making her miserable was for the best. “You’ll call me?” he asked softly instead of replying. “Tell me where to send the rest of your things?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sad smile. 

It grew quiet again and he looked at her carefully. “You’re ok?”

Her smile turned genuine. “I am.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.

She turned he head and brushed her lips against his, then pulled away and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked with a hollow chuckle. “Failing you?”

She shook her head. “For letting me go.”

He paused before nodding and she leaned in and kissed him again before sliding into the seat. Reluctantly, he closed the door behind her and stood on the sidewalk watching as the cab pulled away.

 

CUT TO INT. JOSH AND DONNA’S APARTMENT

He was sitting, leaned against their headboard wearing a pair of blue pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt. Donna was sitting between his legs wearing the matching top and a pair of his sweat pants, her back to his chest as he cradled her close to him. Brahms was playing softly on the stereo in the living room and two glasses of white wine sat untouched on the nightstand. 

He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was crying all the same. Her shoulders shook slightly and her breath occasionally hitched as she studied each picture for several minutes as if looking for something before moving on to the next one. For the most part he chose not to look; he’d seen them once before and it had been plenty for a lifetime. But each time she flipped to the next one, he’d lean forward just a little and look over her shoulder at it, then he’d close his eyes and fight the bile that rose in his throat before kissing her shoulder and tightening his grip on her the slightest bit. 

Each new picture revealed something more horrible, something no one should ever have to see. A picture of the driver, clearly dead, his neck broken badly against the steering wheel, a picture of police dragging a lifeless Congressman Korb from the SUV, a picture of it exploding... A rather disturbing one Admiral Fitzwallace being wheeled on a gurney towards an ambulance made Josh wonder if he hadn’t died instantly. Every picture brought unwelcomed thoughts of a life without Donna.

He was leaned back with his eyes closed when he both heard and felt her gasp, and he sat up and looked over her shoulder, which began shaking badly. The sight of her hanging there from the seatbelt that helped to save her life, blood and dirt on her face and eyes closed shattered the last of his resolve and he felt a tear prick his eye. He took a shallow breath and wrapped his arms further around her waist, turning his head and looking out the window. 

She sniffled, her crying becoming vocal for the first time, and he began rocking her lightly from side to side. The next picture was closer, the blood on her face more noticeable against her paler than usual skin.

“I… I can’t…” she whispered between sobs.

“Shh…” he whispered back, turning from the window and burying his face in her neck while he continued rocking her gently. “It’s ok; I’m right here.”

She clutched the picture and leaned back into him more, crying harder and listening as he whispered over and over that she was ok, that he was right there. It had to be hard for him to see those pictures; it would have killed her to see pictures of him like that. But he was there when she needed him the most, just like he always was. 

Several minutes passed before she was calm enough to pick the pictures back up and look at the next one; her lying on a gurney while a paramedic worked on her. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt fresh tears slide down her cheek.

“Look how strong you are,” he whispered, his own voice laced with pain. She looked at the face in the photograph, lifeless and pale, and shook her head. 

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing her temple. “That’s you… fighting to live.”

She pushed back into him farther, burying herself in the protection of his embrace, and looked at the picture again through his eyes. She took a shallow breath and then a deeper one as the woman he saw came into focus, erasing the images of the weak dying one she’d seen a moment earlier.

She went back to the previous photograph, but it was as if she’d never seen it before. After studying it for several long seconds, she turned her head and looked out the window at the dark, clear sky. “I had to fight,” she whispered as he stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth. “I had to get back to you.”

FADE TO BLACK

 


End file.
